


Blood. Lots of Blood.

by THE_Backwards



Category: Original Work
Genre: Demons, Forgive Me, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Original Character(s), Short, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 20:39:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10704669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/THE_Backwards/pseuds/THE_Backwards
Summary: An eventual collection of short stories, stress writing, and scenes from my own disturbed mind. I will update tags as I go along. Specific warnings will be at the beginning of each chapter.





	Blood. Lots of Blood.

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains violence. This includes blood and knives, but not much else. Oh, there's a demon, too. Also, this isn't beta'd. Y'all are getting this as written. Wrote this one all in one go.

          A pale man, little more than skin, bones, and blood, _lots of blood,_ lay shackled shuddering at the woman’s sharp-toed feet, and her long coat, dark as midnight shadows, kissed ever so gently at her delicate ankles. Watching the man tremble before her, the woman let out a sharp, high laugh that may have been pretty were it not accompanied by cruel amber eyes and a nasty quirk to her scarlet lips. Her grip tightened just barely on her elongated knife, rubies glinting in the hilt as her perfectly manicured fingers closed more firmly. Her pupils were slits, one could almost call them reptilian, and she smirked widely as she strode towards the bound man before her and dug a needle-like heel through his right hand. He would have screamed if he still had a voice. As it was, his mouth gaped soundlessly as he writhed as she speared his other hand just the same. Fear boiled and twisted in his chest as she raised her foot from his hand with a sickening squelch, but she merely set it down on the floor once again and smiled a saccharine grin down at him with pointed teeth. He flinched as one leg swung over him and she settled herself firmly on his chest. A hum resonated from her throat, and she twirled the knife as she thought. Her grip stiffened once more and she smiled; fear coursed through the man’s veins, she could smell it,  _ delicious.  _ A flash of gold and his left cheek had a sizable gash. Another flash and his left collarbone was bleeding. She leaned down to lick at the wound, crimson matching her lips as she drank in his terror and her dark locks tickling at his skin. A thin line on each arm, just above the elbow, and one upon each jutting rib. Down his legs, on thighs and at ankles, intricate sanguine patterns lending a sharp copper scent to the air as she cut. He was paler now than before, a pool of blood blossoming from his still-breathing form. The woman stood, blood falling from her in curtains, leaving her completely dry with not even a stain on her ivory blouse. A sharp whistle passed her lips and her eyes flashed dangerously as the room was swarmed by hawks, eagles, and falcons. She smirked once more and gave him a look, a look that promised  _ the worst is yet to come, my pretty. The worst is yet to come.. _


End file.
